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But Drakon shook his head, closing his heart and his ears to what she was saying. ‘I don’t do powerless, Lucy,’ he said. ‘Not any more. That’s something you need to know about me. Maybe the only thing.’
His words tailed away as the bells from the village church began ringing out and he could hear the sound of the children beginning to sing the traditional kalandra, but Drakon found himself unable to feel any sense of joyful celebration as he glanced down at his watch.
It was Christmas Day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PUSHING ASIDE THE festive wrapping paper, Lucy felt her eyes widen as she pulled a circlet of glittering diamonds from the dark leather box. ‘Oh, Drakon,’ she said.
‘Do you like it?’
‘How could anyone not like it?’ she questioned shakily, slipping the bracelet over her wrist and holding it up in the air so that it sparkled like a ring of rainbows in the winter sunshine. But the truth was that it felt too expensive. Too impersonal—and nothing like the ink-spot sapphire which he’d picked out himself. She wanted to know who’d chosen it but she also didn’t want to know, for fear that it might have been Amy or one of his assistants. And in the meantime—how humble was her own little present going to look in comparison to this?
A little awkwardly, she walked over to the Christmas tree and bent to retrieve the gift she’d placed there earlier. ‘It’s not very much,’ she said as she handed it to him.
‘I’m sure it will be perfect,’ said her new husband, his voice carrying the bland reassurance of someone who was impossible to buy for.
But she saw his face change as he pulled out a small picture from within the neat folds of holly-strewn paper.
‘You don’t like it?’ she questioned anxiously as he stared at it in silence.
&nbs
p; ‘I... It’s a line drawing of Prasinisos,’ he said slowly, lifting his head to look at her. ‘Where on earth did you get it?’
‘I found it in London just before the wedding. There’s a tiny shop in an arcade close to Leicester Square station which specialises in maps and drawings of small islands. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it there. You haven’t already got it, have you?’
He shook his head as he turned it over, his thumb caressing the worn leather frame, and an odd kind of smile touched the corners of his lips. ‘No, I haven’t got it.’
‘I know it’s only—’
‘It’s not only anything,’ he corrected, almost fiercely. ‘It’s probably the most personal gift anyone has ever bought me. And now I think I’d better thank you properly, don’t you?’
Lucy smiled and bit her lip. ‘If you like.’
‘I really did think you might have learned to stop blushing by now.’ He gave a low laugh and she felt as if she’d just won the lottery. ‘Come here.’
It was a Yuletide like no other Lucy had ever experienced, but then she’d spent so many of them on her own these past few years that maybe she had simply forgotten what it was like to celebrate. For lunch they sat down to a festive feast which had been prepared for them by Spiros, the chef. There were shiny crackers and napkins embroidered with stars on the table, and shiny christopsomo bread, which was traditionally eaten on Christmas Day. The delicious loaf was flavoured with cinnamon, oranges and cloves and Drakon told her that it translated literally as ‘Christ’s bread’. Afterwards, they ate lamb with salad and a delicious walnut-covered cake called melomakarono—which was also traditional.
After retiring to their bedroom for a sex-jammed siesta, Drakon drove her to his favourite cove, a curving crescent of deepest blue, and Lucy kicked off her shoes immediately, feeling the pale, soft sand between her toes as she gazed out at the glimmering horizon. ‘I’d love to go for a swim,’ she said, a little wistfully.
‘It’s way too cold.’
‘I guess.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, it’s pointless wishing because I haven’t brought my costume.’
‘And because only a crazy person would swim on a day like this.’
Lucy stared out at the sapphire water on which the winter sunshine was dancing in undulating lines of liquid gold, telling herself that this might be Greece but it was still winter and Drakon was probably right—only a crazy person would want to swim on Christmas Day. Yet something was compelling her to take to the water and she couldn’t work out if it was just a sense of feeling so intensely alive, or the powerful sense of hope which had been building up inside her since their plane had touched down on Prasinisos. Because despite her initial misgivings about the trip, this felt as if it was rapidly turning into a proper honeymoon. Not just the sex, which had been perfect as always—but because Drakon had revealed a chink in his steely armour and allowed her to look inside at the man beneath. He had confided stuff about his family which made her understand him a little better and didn’t that spell only positive things for their future together?
He was standing silhouetted against the shoreline, his black hair ruffled and the light breeze blowing at his linen shirt, which was tucked into a pair of faded jeans, and he looked so utterly gorgeous that a thrill of pleasure ran through her. Was that what made her feel so uninhibited? Why she suddenly peeled her sweater over her head and dropped it on the sand, before starting to unbutton her jeans?
His black eyes narrowed as the denim slid to the sand. ‘Now what are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘You’re not planning on going skinny-dipping are you, Lucy?’
She registered his tone of mocking incredulity and forced herself to focus on her smile rather than the goosebumps which greeted the removal of her jeans. ‘Why not?’ she queried innocently as she unclipped her bra and wriggled out of her knickers. ‘Didn’t you say you owned this beach and nobody ever came near it?’
